


A Calculated Risk

by pleasereadmeok



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:10:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7283047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasereadmeok/pseuds/pleasereadmeok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary looked at Henry with new eyes.  Everything she thought she knew about him was mistaken.  He wasn’t the ‘devil may care’ risk taker that she had been wary of getting involved with – far from it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Calculated Risk

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote ‘Caught’ ages ago - that was what I imagined might happen after the ‘tunnel of love’ kiss (you know the one). I started this at the same time as a different take on the same thing. So part of this may seem familiar. I didn’t get a chance to post it before the next episode aired and it got forgotten. I suppose Henry is about mid 30’s and because of his good looks and his profession I bet he has had plenty of women ‘friends’, so he never felt the need to be married. But I wondered if there could be a different story behind that.

The heavens opened again and Mary and Henry were soaked within seconds.

Henry grabbed Mary’s hand and they ran along the road shrieking with laughter until they sheltered in a doorway.  
“I live a short walk away – let’s go there to get dried out and then I’ll take you back to Berkley Square.”  
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”  
“To get dry? Why ever not? Nonsense. Come home with me, I’d never forgive myself if you caught a cold.”

Henry steered Mary around a corner into a nearby house. The house was small, by Mary’s standards, but surprisingly well appointed.  
“I’m quite impressed. It’s beautifully done, very elegant.”  
“I can’t take any credit for that I’m afraid, my wife was in charge of the decoration.”  
“Your wife?!”  
Mary felt like she had been slapped.  
“Yes, my wife. I’m a widower.” She was shocked that Henry had been married and a little ashamed of herself that she had never asked - and of her relief that he was no longer married. “She died of a heart condition six years ago.”

Mary was flustered by the information Henry had just given her.  
“I’m so sorry about your wife. I…I had no idea that you…”  
“Mary I’m 36, did you really think I’d get to that age without marrying?”  
“No, I suppose not. I should have asked, I’m sorry.”  
“It was a hellish time. So you see, I do understand what it’s like to lose someone you love, better then you think.” 

“Come with me, we need to get these wet clothes off before we catch our deaths.” Henry took hold of Mary’s hand again and led her up the stairs.  
“In here. I’ll get some towels.”  
Mary looked around her and was surprised to see that she was in Henry’s bedroom. She stared at the bed and imagined … until she caught sight of the framed photograph on the bedside table, a woman with fine features, delicate and beautiful. She realised that she knew very little about the man who had declared that he was falling in love her just half an hour before. 

Henry returned with a pile of towels and lit the fire.  
“I’ll leave you to get those wet clothes off. Unless you need me to help?”  
“Don’t you have a maid or someone else who could do it?”  
“No I’m afraid not, not at this hour. I’ll unbutton you at the back and you should be able to manage the rest.”  
His fingers worked quickly, obviously used to helping a woman undress.  
“There. I’ll just dry off your hair before I go.”

Henry’s fingers brushed lightly against Mary's neck as he carefully rubbed her hair dry with the towel. At home in her bedroom at Downton, having Anna dry her hair would be a normal, everyday event for Mary but this was different – sensual, erotic even. She repeated the involuntary moan she gave earlier when they had kissed in the tunnel. The moment was not lost on Henry either – he too was affected by the possibilities of their intimacy.  
“Um…I’ll …er…leave you to do the rest. I’ll just be in my dressing room if you need anything. One of my robes is on the bed. Give me a knock when you’re decent and then we can get a drink to warm us up.”  
“Thank you. You’re being very kind.”

Henry withdrew to his dressing room and Mary couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. He was being a perfect gentleman - what on earth had she expected or hoped for? That he would have been something less than a gentleman? 

Mary continued undressing, placing her wet clothes on the back of a chair in front of the fire. She chastised herself about hoping for more from Henry, their ‘involvement’ was moving way too fast for her as it was, surely she shouldn’t be thinking such thoughts. _“Slow down Mary.”_

There was a quiet knock on the bedroom door. Maybe Henry was not such a gentleman after all? He was obviously pushing his luck she thought, but her stomach flipped over and her heart beat faster all the same.  
“Henry I’m not decent yet.”  
But then Mary was momentarily confused when she remembered that he had left from another door in the bedroom to go to his dressing room. 

Mary tentatively opened the door and saw there was a girl of about 14 was in the hallway.  
“Oh I do beg your pardon, I thought you were Papa. I’m Leonora Talbot. How do you do?”  
Mary was shocked for the second time that night, she had never considered that Henry was a father, but yet again, she had never asked.  
“How do you do? I’m Lady Mary Crawley, um, a friend of your father’s.”  
“Oh yes of course. How lovely to meet you at last, Papa has told me about you. He’s terrifically impressed with you!”  
The girl had a refined accent, like cut glass, maybe even a cut above Mary’s own, she thought. 

“Why don’t you come in and keep me company and then you can tell me about yourself.”  
“Alright. Is there anything you need? Oh dear that’s Papa’s old robe! I’ll get you one of mine and I’ve got a super new electric hairdryer as well.”  
The girl hurried off and returned quickly, shutting the door behind her to keep in the heat of the fire. She smiled at Mary as she handed her the more feminine robe and then plugged in the hairdryer. 

Mary could see Leonora was already a beauty, a younger version of her fine- featured mother, but those blue green eyes were just like Henry’s.  
“Shall I do your hair for you?” The girl asked and Mary nodded her agreement.  
“I say your hair is awfully smart. Papa won’t let me have mine cut yet.”  
“Well I can understand that, your hair is beautiful.”  
It _was_ beautiful, blonde, long, and in a thick plait down her back.  
“It’s a terrible faff to look after but I wouldn’t have it cut without Papa’s approval. I think if he had his way he would keep me his little girl forever, but I don’t mind, not really. I’d never do anything to upset Papa.”  
Mary recognised the girls’ struggle. She was little more than a child, longing to be a woman and yet she still needed to feel the warmth of her father’s protection.

Just then a knock came from Henry’s dressing room. Mary was decent in Leonora’s robe and so she called,  
“Come in!”  
Henry was surprised to see his daughter but greeted her with a hug and kiss.  
“Darling what are you doing up at this hour?”  
“I’m sorry Papa, I heard a noise and I thought it was you.”  
“You’ve introduced yourself to Lady Mary?”  
“Yes. She’s rather splendid.” She whispered to her father.  
Henry scoffed, “Well I agree with you. Now, run along back to bed darling, we don’t want to wake the others.”  
He hugged Leonora again and kissed her forehead.  
“Goodnight darling.”  
“Goodnight Papa, goodnight Lady Mary.”  
“Goodnight. I hope we’ll meet again.”

“Henry she’s lovely.”  
“She’s her mother, I have very little to do with it.”  
“I know that’s not true, she’s a credit to you.” Then a thought struck Mary. “The ‘others’? Do you have more children?”  
“Yes. A son, he’s 11, and two younger girls, 9 and 7.”  
“Three girls? They must lead you a merry dance.”  
“Not really, they’re good girls, still I suppose the trouble really starts in a few years time. You are one of three girls aren’t you?”  
“Yes, and trust me, we have caused a lot of trouble for our Papa. Henry I feel so ashamed that I assumed you were unmarried, and now I find out that you have four children! I really should have asked. Won’t you tell me about her - your wife?”  
“Alright – but first let me get us a drink and then I’ll tell you the story. Perhaps you would tell me about Matthew as well? We got interrupted by the rain before. Now, what would you like to drink - Brandy?”  
“Yes, thank you.”  
She had agreed to share a drink with Henry but was not yet sure if she would agree to talk about Matthew.

Mary made herself comfortable, choosing to sit on the bed instead of the chairs by the fire. After all, the chairs had her clothes draped over them so surely sitting on the bed was the logical option? Henry returned with a decanter of brandy and two glasses. He was a little distracted by her choice of where to sit but plumped up the pillows behind her back, then sat beside her on the bed and handed her a brandy. 

Mary waited while Henry sipped his drink.  
“Anne was a Lady, much like you. We met before the war – we were staying on a cousin’s estate and her family was visiting as well. I fell in love.” He shrugged as if falling in love was something he did everyday. “She was determined not to have me of course,” he smiled knowingly at Mary and she recognised the parallel as well, “but I loved her and so I didn’t give up. I won her over in the end. It was the happiest of marriages but then she became ill. It was hard, especially for the children.” Sadness engulfed him. “I miss her everyday.”  
“I understand.” Mary instinctively touched Henry’s cheek and he rested his head on her hand. “I understand completely.” 

Henry turned to Mary, expectant, waiting for her to reciprocate. She sipped her brandy, laid back on the pillows and to her surprise the words came easily. He laid down to face her as he listened and she told him everything. She explained about Patrick, the entail and her family’s expectations of her. She told him about the rocky path to her realisation that she was in love with Matthew, and her own stubbornness in accepting the fact. She left nothing out – Lavinia, Carlisle, Matthew’s injuries.  
“In the end we were a love match. Matthew was my soulmate – my partner in all things.”

Henry was glad that Mary had been adored and cared for, that she had known a great love. But then he saw Mary’s body stiffen – she was getting to the bad bit, the difficult part of the story. He smiled to encourage her, putting his arm around her for support seemed the most natural thing to do. Holding her close broke their eye contact, which somehow made it easier for Mary to explain her shock and grief when Matthew died. Henry thought about the awfulness of her situation, to lose her husband so soon after George was born – so sudden, no warning, no opportunity to say goodbye - and the unbearable pain that must have caused her. He wanted to take away her pain but had no idea how. He did what he could – hugging her tight and kissing her hair.  
“My poor darling.”  
It was such a familiar, almost proprietorial, thing to say – as if she already belonged with him. 

“If Matthew had lived… I don’t know if we would still be together or as happy. How can one possibly tell?”  
“I don’t doubt it for a second … and nor do you. The way you talk about him, there’s no reason why you wouldn’t have stayed together. You would have grown up together.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry – I’m probably making it worse… making you think about what might have been.”  
Henry held Mary in his arms and they laid quietly together while he stroked her hair.

 

After a while Mary gently freed herself to sip her brandy and then lay back down to face Henry once more.  
“How can you do it, taking such risks when you race, when you have four children at home?”  
“Mary the risks I take are calculated. I’m not without skill and I would never do anything stupid because there are people I love who are depending on me. I don’t mean financially, the children have their own money from Anne, but they need me and I’m not going to risk them losing their father as well. Do you understand?”  
Mary looked at Henry with new eyes. Everything she thought she knew about him was mistaken. He wasn’t the ‘devil may care’ risk taker that she had been wary of getting involved with – far from it.  
“I think I understand, but there could still be an accident that isn’t your fault.”  
“Yes of course.” He ran a hand through his wet hair. “Look racing is dangerous, but then all of life is dangerous – people catch Spanish flu, they get run over crossing the road, they fall off horses and break their necks...” The last example hit home for Mary after her near miss of a few weeks ago. “Life is full of risks – we can’t protect ourselves from everything. Sometimes we have to take a calculated risk.”  
Henry stared at Mary and she realised that he wasn’t just talking about the risks of racing.  
“We can’t live in the past can we?” She sighed.  
“No, we can’t.”  
“We have to risk our hearts again.”

As Henry cuddled her close he wondered if he was being selfish to ask Mary, who had suffered so much, to be part of his life. Would it be asking too much of her to love a racing driver? He pushed the thought aside. Although he had made the declaration that he was ‘falling in love’ with Mary, the reality was that he had long passed the point when he could give her up. He was committed, passed the point of no return. He needed her and didn’t want to let her go. It was a risk – but a calculated one.

Encircled in the warmth of Henry’s arms Mary had come to a decision too – she would go to Brooklands as he had asked. She wanted to be part of his life and so she had to embrace the racing as well as the man. She even found herself wondering what it would be like to be a step-mother to Henry’s children. How would George feel about having four new siblings? She stopped herself considering a future with Henry but she realised that she was more committed to him than she had cared to admit. 

 

“Your clothes should be dry now. I ought to take you back to your Aunt’s. Tom will think I’ve abducted you!”  
“On the contrary - he’ll be hoping we’ve eloped!”  
“Hum – he does seem rather keen for us to be together.”  
“He wants me to be happy.”  
“And he thinks that you would be happy with me?”  
“Yes – he believes so.”  
“And what about you? What do you believe? Do you think we could be happy together?”  
“I need a little longer to decide.”  
Henry nodded and understood. His finger traced the line of Mary’s jaw and then tilted her chin for another kiss - soft and tender this time. She responded willingly, relaxing as the feeling of his lips against hers became wonderfully familiar to her. 

“Shall I leave you to get dressed?”  
Mary snuggled up against Henry and he sighed as her hand slipped inside his robe to stroke his chest.  
“Not yet. Like I said, I need a little longer.”


End file.
